Fugitaboutit

The favorite phrase of the mafia. And not just the Italian mafia. I bet Russian mobsters and Yakuza hitmen use the exact same phrase. Why bring this up? Why conjure images of Tony Soprano, Big Pussy and Don Vito Corleone?

I introduce you to my mafia. A challenge of sorts. Equal parts talent and voyeurism. Contribute or merely read the tales of local and national writers. We are the unsung. The unrefined. The undaunted writers of America. We have no outlet, thus we create one. We take what others ought not give us. Thus our mafia. An underground army of scribes, bent on sharing their creations, one post at a time.

Quiet

Life is ultra quiet right now. Trying to plan a trip to Mexico for a week. We're going to Puerto Vallarta for a week and things are slowly falling into place. Other than that I'm just waiting on my economic stimulus check to roll in to pay off said vacation. I'm afraid of getting sick in Mexico. I think it'll be impossible to stay there for a week and not come back with some jungle slug that burrows into my liver and starts a family. Pleasant thought.

Summer's here and you know what that means -- construction! The sidewalk below my apartment no longer exits thanks to jackhammering that starts promptly at 7am each day. Luckily we're awake by then. I'm very happy to no longer live on the second floor directly above the war zone that is that corner.

I've learned a couple of new capoeira songs and cannot for the life of me get them out of my head. That's what I get for spending the time to learn them syllable by syllable. They're great songs though. I was extremely disappointed last Friday when too few people showed up to class for a roda and we cross trained instead. Great workout, but Fridays are the days we get to try all we'll practiced that week. Total downer when it doesn't happen.

Like I said, it's quiet so this is all I've got right now. Have a happy holiday weekend. Back with more after then.

How long have you wanted to be famous?

“I see in Fight Club the strongest and smartest men who have ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see it squandered Damn it, an entire generation pumping gas and waiting tables; slaves with white collars. Advertisements have us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don't need. We are the middle children of history, man. No purpose, or place. We have no Great War, no Great Depression. Our great war is a spiritual war. Our great depression is our lives. We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'll all be millionaires and movie gods and rock stars -- but we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off."

--Tyler Durden, Fight Club*

A revelation occurred to me last night. I was watching, er, My girlfriend was watching A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila 2. In brief, this is a reality show in which sleeveless men and pants-less lesbians vie for the love of the most popular former nude model, oops I mean girl on MySpace.

The fan of Fight Club that I am, Mr. Durden appeared in front of me. Shaved head. Feather boa. The whole nine yards. His philosophy, quoted above, stung me like alcohol in a nasty paper cut right in that webby part of your hand. We really have been raised on the notion of fame. This generation has endured little else south of success in life in America. Educated. Not drafted. Comfortable. Bored. We’ve been told we’re capable of doing anything we set our minds to. But who really wants to be president these days? Or an MBA touting, successful CEO? That requires work and determination. Why bother when more money is given to mediocre actors, skinny models and emo bands? No, the fruits of society lie in celebrity. At least that’s what TV shows us. Where else can you make a fortune pretending for a living? Or make three times what I make in a year by appearing on a billboard? It’s nothing new that celebrities earn millions of dollars. What is new is how available celebrity status seems to be. Viral YouTube video? Famous. Bit role on the latest reality soap opera airing primetime? Celebrity. Slept with a leading man in Hollywood while you babysat his kid? Celebrity with book deal.

It’s worth mentioning I’m even guilty of this mentality. Write a book. Start a band. Walk down the right street in L.A. at the right time and get famous. We all want the easy way out of life. We want to be on top. But who wants to work to get there? Being a celebrity is like being 12 years old your entire life. You’re catered to, adored for whatever talents the world thinks you have and money is never an issue. Well, I woke up from that fantasy of celebrity and riches. I still want to write a novel, but less for the celebrity status and more for the financial security and freedom that come with being a successful writer. Keyword: successful. I know that success is not easy nor guaranteed. Hence my day job and savings account.

Many Americans still stumble sleepily through life. Work is too hard. Life is too dull. I was born to sing; to dance; to act! I DESERVE my shot at fame! Ok, sure, you deserved your shot at it. But you get one shot. And if you blow it on American Idol, The Real World or online you’re done. You join the club of recovering fame-bots who chase fame like a meth addict chases his first hit. And the world forgets about you as you’re replaced by the next contestant. But, then a network comes up with some “washed-up stars” show and you gat a second chance at fame. The cycle continues. The talentless get richer, the rest poorer. Perhaps this is our Great Depression.

Are you pissed off yet?

*Copyright, Chuck Palahniuk

One Long Weekend

So, this was perhaps the longest weekend I’ve had in a long, long time. Almost 5 straight days of capoeira and my legs are officially done. Hamstrings are PISSED at me. We did a capoeira performance in downtown KC on Friday that was small, but went well. It’s always more fun to do it out in the open to draw passersby. Hopefully that’s the case next month. I was introduced to a couple of new capoeira songs I’m eager to learn, too. Thanks to Bambu for visiting and sharing his talents with us.

Saturday started slow but quickly turned into an emergency trip to the Gap so my car-less friend could buy black pants. I had just enough time to rush him back to my place to get ready for the charity event he was volunteering at and haul it over to the academy 10 minutes late for a capoeira workshop. But when I got there all I’d missed out on was one song, so dodged a bullet there.

Saturday night was a blast. $50 got me into the HALO Foundation annual fund raiser at the library near my apartment. Open bar. Catered food. Auction. Good times. I bid of 4 items – 2 silent and 2 live. I lost all 4. Or did I? About an hour after the end of the live auction a woman approached me and asked if I was still interested in the last item I bid on. Apparently the winner backed out and I was next in line…for a trip to Puerto Vallarta worth $7,000. I bid $1,800 and will split the bill with at least 5 other. So, pretty exciting. Plus it’s a tax write-off AND (the best part) that $1,800 will feed orphans in Africa for 2 solid months. Awesome. How'd we celebrate? After party, food at Chubby's and not home until 4a.m. Yikes.

Now I have a nasty head cold and am living in an achy fog. Great start to this week. All worth it, though. We’ll see how I do when kickball season revs up on Thursday. Go Big Finish!